behind every beautiful thing, there’s been some kind of pain

The weather has begun to turn. The leaves are changing colors and beginning to drop from the trees. New England has a pleasant beauty this time of year, which is not lost on me. There were times that I was worried I’d never see the beauty of life again; the music would forever be in mono. But life continues, and time numbs the pain and opens us up to beauty once again.

But what gets me now is that there is beauty that Gilad will never see. He will never see the majestic panorama of the Charles River in early October. He won’t get to see Avital grow up. He’ll never hear the heart wrenching beauty of music again. Why do the rest of us get to experience beauty, but Gilad does not? Shouldn’t the world be stripped of beauty without him here?

I was listening to a recording the two of us did a few years back, complete with two part harmonies. Now, I’m not much of a singer, and I’m even worse at harmonizing than I am at singing solo. But for some reason, I could always harmonize with Gilad. Whenever we sat down with our guitars and began to play and sing, something always clicked musically and vocally, and we were always able to weave our voices together.

And while I miss this with all of my heart, and have a difficult time believing the fact that we’ll never sing together again, it also gives me a bit of comfort – because with Gilad gone, so went this beautiful thing that we had together. A bit of beauty and art and music has been erased from the world.

Gilad, the seasons are changing again. Life is going on, and you’re not here anymore. And it rips my heart to shreds every time I think about it. But the world is still beautiful, and that’s ok – you would’ve wanted it that way. Yet, I’m somewhat comforted that you were able to take a bit of beauty away with you; that without you in the world, there are some things that will never be perfect or completely beautiful.

I miss you and love you.

Ryan Adams – Dirty Rain

2 responses to “behind every beautiful thing, there’s been some kind of pain

  1. I don’t know you and I don’t know Gilad. Yet I was so moved by what you’ve written here that I went and read Posts About Gilad and his own blog. I’m sorry for your loss. For the first time I’m shaken by the moniker I use for my own blog. Keep the music going and let it soar to wherever your brother is.

  2. Beautifully written words about your dear brother. Thanks for introducing me to Ryan Adam’s Dirty Rain. Love it.